Sister Faith

Temporary Residence; 2013

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Earlier this month, Louisville trio Coliseum revealed that they'd figured out the formula to create one near-perfect rock song. They called their new personal best "Fuzzbang", the title alone obviously a dare to mindlessly hit the play button. Far lesser songs have had titles like "Fuzzbang"-- tracks that are all power and no substance. This song actually says something substantial, addressing ignorance in certain sects of Christianity and the neverending, painful churn of everyday life. With, yes, a fuzzed out guitar, frontman Ryan Patterson sells the message with a killer opening guitar solo, which is the core of the track. He sings about the "end of days" in the chorus, but Patterson, bassist Kayhan Vaziri, and drummer Carter Wilson let their instruments soar with the kind of hopeful, anthemic melody that's more aesthetically fitting of a Bruce Springsteen song. In less than four minutes, with a couple of false endings thrown in for good measure, they pair lyrics that plead for change with an unstoppable hook. It's a ridiculously fun-sounding song, albeit one with a bruised spirit.

It's also the final track on Sister Faith, the band's fourth album in a decade. It's a ridiculously solid way to end an album, and it's also the bow that wraps up the LP's thematic territory. Sometimes, the material is more commonplace than it may suggest on its hard rock surface. "Used Blood" is about the phenomenon of people talking without really listening or saying anything of substance. When Patterson sings "we'll disappear from sight" in the album's opening track, he's actually stressing the importance of holding on to happy memories. Hell, "Everything in Glass" is a love song. He's tempted by the world's evils, but when she comes around, everything is clearer. And when he sings about her, the music sounds a little brighter.

But this is an album called Sister Faith; it's packaged with graphics (by Patterson) featuring skulls and religious symbols. Naturally, they cover substantially heavier and more existential themes, too. Most prominently: the inevitability of death, the absurdity of faith, and what it means to be alive when everything will eventually come to an end. "Save Everything" refuses to acknowledge the validity behind the idiom "you can't take it with you." "I can take it all with me," he refutes. "I can save everything." One of Sister Faith's weightiest track is also its most sonically subtle. While every other song on the album ramps up both feedback and power, "Love Under Will" smolders. Patterson's growl is tempered, there's more room between each drum hit, and everything is marked by more echo and empty space. Although it could easily be a metaphor for a crumbling relationship, it outlines the terrifying prospect of what love means when you believe in eternity.

Again, though, this is the same band who recorded that unstoppable riff in "Fuzzbang"-- not everything here is a grim rumination on life and death. "Black Magic Punks", for example, is sort of goofy when you stack it next to the rest of these songs. It's about witchcraft-wielding punk rockers "with the black jeans and the black t-shirts" whose power somehow derives from "decades of sweat from punks unheard." It's certainly not as deep as several other tracks here, but with another great hook and some complementary vocals from Boris' Wata, it sounds awesome.

In terms of chugging rock'n'roll, the album sits comfortably next to Torche and Baroness, not to mention the work of their producer J. Robbins. It was recorded in Robbins' Magpie Cage studio in Baltimore, and the album smacks of Jawbox' knack for pairing guitars-- a distorted low end with a crisp upper register. Patterson's guitar often teeters between the atmosphere of Dead Man-era Neil Young and the sludge of Paranoid-era Tony Iommi. It's a sound they do really well, almost to a fault. At times, these songs go on for a bit too long. A bigger obstacle is their lack of variety-- "Love Under Will" is the only significant gear shift in the LP's 13 tracks. But ultimately, these complaints are for an album packed with huge hooks, which all sound great when you play them really loud. Just listen to the monstrous way Patterson belts the word "O-CU-LAR" on "Under the Blood of the Moon". You don't want this band to slow down.